Smoke and Rain
by RedMoonBear
Summary: After centuries of being alone, Carlisle thinks he may have found his intended. He can't help being drawn into the young woman's complicated life, despite his desire to keep away from her. He knows that if he doesn't leave her, he'll taint her soul, and he has to keep her safe. Or does he?
1. Chapter 1: Smoke and Rain

The hospital at Forks was usually very quiet. Sometimes, Carlisle welcomed the quietness of it. It was nice not to have to rush around like a madman, and nice to know that there weren't as many people here getting hurt. On days like this though, he couldn't deny how he ached for a little bit more. He ached for the thrill of saving lives, ached to be useful and save as many people as possible. He was hundreds of years old, and if he were honest with himself, this was about the only thing that thrilled him any more. He derived pleasure from his family, of course. They were all that Carlisle really had, and he loved them all dearly. He supposed that the excitement of welcoming Bella into the family had worn off after the first 5 years though. Sometimes, he missed Esme, even though she had left him nearly 100 years ago. Esme had not been exciting for him, even though she was angelic and very sweet. They had been very close, but neither of them could deny the general lack of passion in the relationship. Normally, he wouldn't reminisce about her, but today was different.

Today, he was bored.

He'd only seen a few patients, and had spent the better part of the day doing paperwork and checking on patients in an effort to stay entertained. He was in the middle of doing just that when his pager went off. He tried not to feel grateful that he was finally getting a distraction.

When he got to the patient on the other side of the hospital, he found the boy screaming and thrashing around on the bed. It seemed at first that it might have something to do with the broken wrist, but Carlisle quickly noticed that the little boy was thrashing that arm about too, despite how much pain it might have caused him. He knew from centuries of experience that children tended to go completely quiet and still when they were seriously injured, but this child was defying that expectation, which must mean that he felt threatened enough not to care about the pain. Carlisle felt stumped, but tried to stay calm as he jogged to the bedside, where the nurse shot him a look. He pretended not to notice the way that her heartbeat sped up and her pupils contracted, or the whiff of disgustingly sweet perfume from her. He never had enjoyed the sweet, floral aromas that women sprayed themselves with.

"What's going on here?" He asked her. The boy was still struggling against the nurse, who seemed to be getting increasingly irate. He scrambled to try and remember his colleague's name- Brinkley? The boy's cries became more desperate. Carlisle could hear feet pounding down the hallway behind him, but paid no mind to the sound, focusing on the patient. "Nurse Brinkley, I said what's going on here?" He repeated.

"I'm not sure Doctor Cullen, he's been behaving like this since he came in."

"Peter!" It was a woman's voice. Carlisle connected the dots quickly; it must be the boy's mother. The stranger shoved past him to the nurse, grabbing at the nurse's hands. "Stop it! Stop touching him!" She yelled, voice filled with wild distress. Like she had been electrocuted, the nurse let go of the boy.

And the boy stopped struggling instantly, though his crying only got louder.

Carlisle took a moment to take the mother in. If his heart had been working, it might have jumped into his throat. She couldn't be older than 18- perhaps his assumption about them being mother and child was wrong. It looked as though she had come straight from work, she was wearing a chef's uniform. She was cooing at the little boy now, her voice straining as words fell uncontrollably from her mouth. "Peter, bubba it's alright. I'm here. No one's going to touch you Bubba. It's okay. I'm right here." She looked like she was trying desperately not to touch him. She took a breath and seemed to try to collect herself, and when she spoke again it was a lot calmer. "Peter, breathe honey."

The nurse had recovered from her shock, it seemed. "Ma'am, what on earth do you think you're doing? How did you even get back here?" The nurse's tone was stern and unfriendly, but the woman didn't even look away from the little boy. "Ma'am." The nurse said, again, even more unfriendly.

The young woman didn't look away from the boy as she snapped at the nurse. "Peter's autistic. He doesn't like being touched. Just please give us some space."

It was a real eureka moment, as Carlisle suddenly grasped what was happening. The little boy- Peter- was autistic, and had been lashing out because a stranger had been trying to touch him. He instantly understood the woman's rude behaviour- she was trying to minimise the damage to the child, to get to him quickly so that Peter would stop thrashing. The nurse didn't cotton on so quickly, unfortunately. "Ma'am, you need to leave. This is a hospital, you can't just go shoving Doctors and Nurses around."

"It's alright, Nurse Brinkley. Let's give them a little bit of space." His voice was level and calming as it came out, not betraying the swirling thoughts in his head.

For the first time, the young woman looked at him, and he saw her face clearly. Her grey eyes were accompanied by bags and dark shadows, and her face was filled with a kind of exhaustion you don't often see on people's faces. She looked completely drained and exhausted, like she hadn't slept for days. Her hair was dry and unhealthy, full of split-ends, as if she had dyed it too many times.

And yet, she was somehow breathtakingly beautiful.

Then her smell hit him, and it felt like he was swallowing hundreds of hypodermic needles. She smelt like coconut shampoo and smoke and rain and _temptation_ embodied. He fought to keep control of his own expression, to keep control of the instinct to sink his teeth in and taste her, to see what the rain and smoke tasted like. He fought down the growl as he visualised the taste on his tongue, wishing not for the first time that he had followed Alice's advice and gone hunting yesterday. Had she known that he'd find her today? The one whose blood sang to him?

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the woman who smelt of smoke and rain speaking to him. Her deep voice, now that she wasn't shouting, sounded like melted butter in his ears. "Thank you. I apologise for reacting so strongly. I know that Peter gets overwhelmed easily. I was worried he was going to hurt himself more." If Carlisle's appearance bothered her, she showed no signs of it. It was quite a relief not to see her swooning like the nurse had been. Her attention was only passing, in fact, and her eyes went straight back to the little boy. Carlisle noticed faintly that the boy was now only whimpering, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "It's alright Peter, Sissa's here. I'm here." She said, barely above a whisper.

"Sissa?" The little boy whimpered, looking at her like he'd only just noticed her.

She stayed back, though the relief was clear in her body. Her shoulders dropped and Carlisle could smell her adrenaline levels had fallen. Her voice was warm and calming when she spoke again. "Hi Peter. Everything's fine now. You're safe."

Panic started to spread across Peter's face, and his voice raised in pitch. "Sissa, the lady touched me and it hurt. My hand hurt!"

The young woman's hand twitched, as if she were resisting the urge to reach out to him. Or perhaps not to hit the nurse, if the sliver of anger deep in those grey eyes were anything to go by. "I know bubba, she's not going to touch you again, I promise. I'll keep you safe."

Nurse Brinkley did not seem to appreciate her tone. "Ma'am, we are going to have to touch the patient. In case you hadn't noticed, his arm is broken. We need to put a cast on it. And I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the reception area like everyone else does." The nurse reached out to the little boy, as if to prove a point, but the young woman snaked her hand out to catch the offending hand.

The young woman's voice was toneless and chilling when she spoke again. She spoke evenly and quietly, not breaking eye contact from the nurse. "Touch him again, and I will hurt you. Do you understand me?"

"Ma'am-."

"I said, do you understand me?" Her voice was still toneless, her grey eyes swimming with dangerous intent. It was obvious that she wasn't joking around.

Carlisle knew he should be de-escalating the situation. He should intervene, do something to put the brakes on and regain control of this runaway car. Clearly, the young woman's emotions were running high, and she was being thrown into protective parent mode against her better reason. He himself knew how it felt to be protective of one's children, to be ready to do anything and everything to those who dared to harm them. She clearly wasn't thinking of the consequences of her words or actions. Yet, he stood there voiceless, because the danger in the young woman's eyes made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Aroused.

He found himself sucking in a breath of air that he didn't need, purely out of habit, and instantly regretted it when a fresh bout of her scent hit his throat. This time, he could smell an undercurrent of cinnamon in her veins. It was maddening. He could feel lust building in his stomach, completely against his will, and with it came a wash of guilt.

Nurse Brinkley seemed to react before his lust-addled brain could. "Excuse me?! Did you just threaten me, Missy?"

Rather than be cowed by the nurse, the girl drew herself to her full height, steely eyes brimming with a silent storm. It almost made Carlisle moan. He couldn't believe he was getting off on this, getting off on this stranger's anger. "You hurt my boy. You are not going _anywhere_ near him without my permission." Despite her obvious youth, she seemed to have a powerful and dangerous aura about her, and the nurse seemed to finally pick up on it.

Mumbling under her breath, Nurse Brinkley stormed out of the room, leaving him alone with the young woman and boy.

Those steely eyes turned to him next, silently challenging him to make a move. For a moment that seemed to stretch on, he couldn't find his voice. He certainly didn't feel threatened by her, there was no way that a human like her could hurt him, even if she wanted to. No, he was unbelievably turned on by her aggressive display, painfully hard just from the tone of her silky voice. He cleared his throat as he tried to clear his head of the images, slipping successfully back into his role as the boy's doctor. He could hardly believe his lack of professionalism. "I assure you, Ma'am, that I have no intention of hurting your son. I won't go anywhere near him unless you let me. Let me know how I can help." He tried to keep his voice level and calm, to keep the strain out of it. It wasn't her fault that he was feeling this way, he needed to get control back.

After a second or two, her grey eyes softened. She cast her eyes to the ground, suddenly looking sheepish. "Sorry, Doctor. I know I can be a little overprotective where Peter is concerned." Her voice was coloured with obvious shame. He almost felt bad for how grateful he felt for that shame. Any lust he'd been feeling died in an instant, giving out to his compassionate side.

"It's alright. I'm overprotective of my children too. It's perfectly normal." He said gently, walking around to the other side of the boy's bed.

He wasn't sure what he had said wrong, but it was like a sheet of glass seemed to rise above her eyes, and a barrier was suddenly between them. Her face transformed to something more businesslike, almost blank and somehow quite hard. Her voice changed when she spoke, like all the colour was drained from it. "It may be a challenge to put a cast on Peter. He really doesn't like anyone but me touching him, and he doesn't even let me when he's in pain." The young teen in question was almost completely quiet now, looking at the young woman as if he was seeing through her body. "I'm not sure how we should go about this. Perhaps you would let me put the cast on it?"

He glanced at her, seeing the calculating expression on her face. He tried to let her down gently. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. It's possible that you could set the bone at the wrong angle and cause permanent damage. It would be preferable if we could find a way for me to work with Peter."

Those calculating grey eyes settled on him, seeming to weigh up what he had said. "You're right, of course." Her eyes landed on the boy, her hand twitching again as if she wanted to ruffle his sandy hair. "Peter, bubba. The Doctor needs to touch you to fix your arm. Be a good boy and stay still, okay?"

Peter didn't meet her eyes when he spoke, looking out of the window at something only he could see. Carlisle realised his eyes were more silvery than grey, but the two of them were obviously related. They were closer in age than he'd first thought. Now that Carlisle was looking at him properly, it was clear that Peter was in his early teens, just small for his age. "It's okay. He's dead, he can't hurt me." His voice was quiet and faraway, and it sent a chill down Carlisle's spine. The child couldn't possibly understand what he was saying, or the implications of it. Or could he?

His attention turned to the young woman, trying to gauge her reaction. The young woman looked incredulous, wondering if she had misheard him, no doubt. Relief washed through his system. Clearly, they weren't vampire hunters. "Sorry bubba?"

"I said he can't hurt me Sissa." The boy's voice was a little stronger this time. He looked at Carlisle now, his gaze somehow both fixed and distant at the same time. Peter proffered his arm silently, watching Carlisle with an air of expectation.

Carlisle glanced at the young woman, silently asking her permission. Her face looked a little more pale than it had a moment before, and although she nodded, her eyes were somewhere far away. He wished he had Edward's gift in that moment. He would give anything to understand the haunted look in her eyes.

Refocusing on his patient, he slowly reached out for the boy's arm, holding it with a gentle grip. He ran his finger over the site of the breakage, feeling the crack underneath the swelling. An Ulnar Styloid fracture, reasonably severe but miraculously the Radius wasn't also broken. Still, it had to be incredibly painful for the little boy. Peter stayed very still, not really looking at anything in particular. He let out a little sound of pain that made the young woman go completely stiff, and Carlisle obediently took his hand away, trying to show that he didn't want to hurt her boy. "I think that Peter is going to need an x-ray. He seems to have fractured his ulnar. It will need a cast."

She looked at him, nodding silently. Even though he had shown her his intentions, she was still wary, the calculating look never once subsiding. He spoke directly to the boy now. "Peter, I need to take you for an X-ray now. Do you want Sissa to come with you?" At this, the corner of the young woman's mouth tilted up, but she didn't say anything.

"Yeah." He said in a little voice, unsurprisingly a little bit squirrelly and shy.

She reached out her arms to lift the boy down to the floor, and he didn't put up much resistance.

Taking the x-ray went by without any hitches, and soon Carlisle had put Peter's arm in a cast.

"Okay Bubba, now what do you say?" The young woman said to Peter.

"Thank you." Peter said, not paying even a little bit of attention to what was happening around him.

"You're welcome, Peter. I hope your arm starts to feel better very soon." He wrote a prescription for some painkillers and handed it to the young woman. "These are in case Peter has any pain. The fracture should be healed in a few weeks, and he can then return to light activities using that hand. If you have any issues or questions please don't hesitate to call."

The woman whose blood smelt of wood smoke and rain looked at him, her eyes still detached somehow. "Thank you Doctor...?"

"Cullen." He supplied.

"Doctor Cullen." She looked between Carlisle and her boy quickly, before hesitantly adding. "Do you think it would be possible to make you Peter's Doctor? It's just, he never lets anyone go near him. I'm floored at just how easily he's taken to you." She didn't let that on in her tone, still completely flat and devoid of colour or expression. Carlisle couldn't help but want to know what had happened to her to make her this way. Her eyes showed only the barest spark of emotion, and Carlisle couldn't place what it was.

He smiled warmly at her, showing his teeth. "Of course, though I hope- and please don't take this the wrong way- that he won't need to see me all too often."

She smiled just a little at that, and it was the first time that he'd seen her even come close to smiling. He knew instantly that he wanted it to make it happen again. God help him, he was totally smitten. He had waited for such a long time to find his better half, and now here she was. If he hadn't recently watched Edward and Bella find each other, he would have waved off Alice's suspicions about mates smelling so tantalizing. He would have waved off the idea that this girl could be meant for him. "Knowing just how accident prone Peter is, I'm sure that we will be seeing you soon." She ruffled the boy's sandy hair just a little as she spoke.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs...?"

That got a little bit of a reaction out of her. "Oh, where are my manners? Diana. Diana Carter." She extended her hand, and he took it. _Diana_. With those pale grey eyes, he felt that the name fit her, named for the Roman moon Goddess.

"Mrs Carter." He shook her hand gently, trying not to break the fragile little bones in her hand.

The smile that had been lingering on her lips died away, and he could see that she took another emotional step away from him, her grey eyes somehow creating a kind of distance from him. "Miss. My mother was Mrs Carter."

 _Was_. Her meaning was clear. Her late mother. Her late mother who he had, however unintentionally, bought up into conversation. Well, the damage was done. There wasn't much he could do about it now. Even though he wished he could go back in time a few minutes and undo it.

A phone started to ring, and she nodded her head at him curtly. "Excuse me, Doctor Cullen. I need to take this call."

"Of course." He said, smiling and nodding at her in return. He turned, giving Peter a short wave before walking down the corridor. Of course, with his hearing, he could hear the whole conversation. He told himself he wasn't straining to hear it.

"Yes boss?"

 _"Where the hell have you been?! You can't just take off from work like that!"_

"I'm sorry sir, my little bother-." Well, that confirmed one of Carlisle's suspicions. Diana and Peter were siblings. Carlisle wondered distantly why Diana hadn't called their father, and settled on the unsettling possibility that perhaps he wasn't in the picture. Was she raising Peter? He knew it wasn't that uncommon these days for people to have children young, but he couldn't help the flash of concern.

 _"Sorry doesn't cut it, kid! I have cut you so much slack in the past, and this is how you repay me? You know what, don't come into work tomorrow! You've earned yourself a permanent vacation!"_

Carlisle felt his feet stop, and was glad that he had turned the corner so that she couldn't see him. He desperately wanted to turn around, to go to her side and comfort her, but he wouldn't be able to explain his above average hearing. Steeling his resolve to walk away, he started to move on. "Shit..." He almost didn't hear the word as she muttered it under her breath, sounding tired and frustrated.

He drifted through the rest of his day without paying much mind to what he was doing, lost in his thoughts about the grey-eyed girl who smelt of smoke and rain.


	2. Chapter 2: Sadness and Pain

Carlisle was barely paying any attention to the road on his way home. His thoughts were stuck on Diana, and the mystery that she came with. The interaction they had shared played over and over in his mind, and every time he thought about it, he noticed something different about it, about her. Her accent was odd, she was definitely American, but he couldn't figure out which part she came from. Some of the intonation made her sound like she was from Brooklyn, some of it like she was from Wisconsin, and there was an odd hint of something else too. Her hair had seemed to him to have been dyed too many times at first, but upon reflection he realised that he couldn't smell conditioner on her. Clearly, she didn't spend a lot of time on maintaining her physical appearance. He thought about the difference in the hair colour between her and her brother, where he was sandy, hers was dark, almost black. He thought about the slight curve of her lips when she smiled at him, the way that it had just barely reached her eyes.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Unlike Edward, he was more than strong enough to stay away from Diana, however good she smelt. If he left Forks tonight, he could stay away permanently, and her life would be able to carry on, unhindered by his own darkness. She could continue to live an existence that was unburdened by him- she hadn't even seemed particularly interested in him, after all. She didn't deserve to have the burden of him in her life, to be damned. He imagined those beautiful grey eyes being red, and it made him feel cold.

Yet, every time he thought of leaving her here, of running far away, he was filled with a dead weight in his body. He had been so lonely for so long. He was filled with longing, a longing to know Diana, to understand the reason why she behaved the way she did. He could sense the trauma in her eyes, and all afternoon he had been wondering what had happened to her. He wanted to believe that Alice's theory about mates was wrong, but Edward and Bella's romance seemed to be clear evidence to the contrary.

Sighing, he pulled down the driveway to the house, knowing that his family would likely all be waiting for him when he got back. It had occurred to him that Alice may not have known about Diana until today. After all, she had only come to the hospital because Peter had broken his wrist, and that had been by chance. With a start, he realised that he had been so caught up in her that he hadn't actually asked what had happened to Peter. What had lead to the breakage?

He didn't have much more time to think, he could hear his family all chatting in the kitchen. He wished he didn't have to face them when he was feeling so conflicted. He knew that they all looked to him for guidance, to lead the family, and he didn't want to show them just how confused he felt.

He spent a moment staring at the steering wheel, gathering his thoughts, before reluctantly climbing out of the car and going to the door. He headed straight for the kitchen, knowing that he couldn't avoid this moment for much longer. The chatter quickly died away and left the room feeling empty and quiet. Alice smiled at him sympathetically, along with Edward. Bella and Esme seemed to be beaming at him. Rosalie and Emmett's expressions were harder to read.

The silence was quickly becoming uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why Alice hadn't spoken yet, out of all of them she was usually the one to try and break the tension. It seemed they were all waiting for him to set the tone and break the silence. He smiled at them, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Good evening, everyone."

"Hi, Carlisle. How was your day?" Bella asked, the smile on her face not abating. He fought the urge to quirk his eyebrow at her. He was certain that Alice would have told them all.

He fought back a smile as an idea come into his mind. Edward smirked from beside Bella, sharing in the private joke with him. "It was fine, thank you Bella. Uneventful, really. The hospital seems to be particularly quiet at the moment." He said, keeping his tone light and innocent. Bella's smile dropped just a little, and he couldn't hold back his own grin any longer.

Alice bounded up to his side, giggling and taking his arm. "Come on Carlisle, tell us all about her! I want to hear every little detail!"

His smile fell just a little as he thought about how exhausted Diana had looked. He could tell that she was going through a lot, and it made him sad. Not for the first time that day, he felt a wash of guilt flow through him. He could only make her life worse. He should leave-.

"Carlisle Cullen, we are not leaving Forks." It was Esme's stern voice that pulled him from his thoughts. Deep in her eyes he could see a level of calm understanding; she knew better than any of the others how his mind worked. She didn't need Edward's powers of mind reading to know that Carlisle was tempted to bolt.

Carlisle hesitated; he knew better than to try and argue with Esme when she took that tone. It never ended well for him. "She... she was..." What had he been planning on saying? He had gotten lost in thoughts of those solemn grey eyes again.

Emmett filled the silence this time with laughter, coming over to clap him hard on the back. "Look at you! I've never seen you lost for words before, Carlisle!"

And he truly was. "I...I don't know what to do. I should stay away from her. It could endanger the family-."

"It couldn't possibly be more dangerous than Bella joining us, Carlisle." Rosalie said coolly, referring to all of the trouble that had seemed to follow comment earned her a heated glare from Edward. Her eyes became more gentle as she studied him. "You deserve a shot at happiness, don't you think?"

He couldn't quite meet any of their eyes. Her soul was worth more than his happiness. "Be that as it may, she deserves a chance at happiness too. And it is entirely possible that Alice's theory isn't correct." He didn't believe those words even as he spoke them, and clearly it showed.

Bella sounded determined when she piped up. "Carlisle, I can't think of a single reason why she wouldn't be happy with you. You're the most compassionate person that I know. She'd be lucky to have you. I know you think that you are damned, but you are the kindest person that I know. If there's no chance for you, well, then there isn't a chance for anyone. When Edward tried to stay away from me, it was the most painful thing in the world. You won't be saving her any pain by leaving, trust me."

Carlisle took her words in silently, not sure what to say. He was no closer to deciding whether he was going to stay or go. He ached to find a suitable excuse to stay, to be able to see that little smile again. He wondered what her laugh sounded like, if her whole body would shake with joy. He wondered how often she smiled, what her life must be like.

He knew in his heart that he wanted to stay, more than anything. He was curious, and she was stimulating and intriguing. He'd had a taste of her, and knew that he needed more.

By the time he had returned his attention to the room, it had emptied. He had been so far away in his mind that he hadn't even noticed them leaving him graciously to sit in his thoughts. He appreciated the space; he just wasn't sure how to feel about everything. He felt all at once overwhelmed by guilt and fear and underneath it all, a spark of hope, of desire and desperation.

He needed to clear his head, to get her out of his thoughts and try to think through the situation more clearly. A walk would do him some good.

He must have been stood in the kitchen for hours, because the night had long since set in as he strolled outside. There was a soft breeze, playing with the trees. The sky was surprisingly clear, and the moonlight filtered through the canopy. He wandered about aimlessly, heading in the general direction of Forks.

Time slipped away from him again as he got lost in his thoughts. He had guessed that Peter was in his early teens, and cringed as he thought of how old Diana might be. He had guessed late teens, but the exhaustion on her face made her look older. He felt a little disgusted with himself for his earlier thoughts about her- she could be under-age. Yet, when he thought about it more, he realised that she could be in her thirties and her age would still bother him. He was centuries old; the age gap was bound to be excessive however old she happened to be.

Her scent wrapped around the edges of his mind, the smell of wood smoke and rain and cinnamon. He wondered how her blood could smell like that. Normally, blood smelt sweet, like fruits, but hers was purely savoury. Perhaps that was why her scent appealed to him, he never really had been fond of sweet things. There was a chance that meant that Alice was wrong, that perhaps her family just had an unusual scent and that it had nothing to do with him. He thought back to earlier in the day, realising that Peter smelled completely different to her, sweet and citrusy like clementines. Normally, families bore at least a slight resemblance in their scent, but they couldn't be much more different. The smokiness of her blood reminded him of a warm camp-fire. He visualised her scent, imagining it as best he could, as he tried to work out what kind of wood it smelt like. Applewood? Cherry? He inhaled deeply, and froze.

The scent was no longer purely in his imagination. It was being carried to him on the breeze.

He could smell that she was less than a mile away, and strained his ears to hear her. He could just about hear her feet landing on the concrete. What on earth was she doing up at this hour? It was long past midnight. Carlisle hesitated, shocked by the turn of events. What were the chances of him bumping into her like this in the middle of the night? Without so much as a thought as to what he was doing, his feet started towards her, until he was able to see her from the tree line.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he felt a wash of something like relief when he saw her again. He knew next to nothing about this woman, certainly not enough to have missed her. She was panting heavily, her heart pumping incredibly quickly, bent over with her hands on her knees. Sweat was dripping off of her, and her smell was almost overwhelmingly strong. It wasn't totally unpleasant, but her blood smelt almost bitter, a scent he knew to be associated with severe stress. He tried to ignore it, holding his breath as he took her in. Clearly, she'd been out for a run before he had found her. He wondered again what the chances of this encounter were, and briefly contemplated the possibility of divine intervention. Perhaps this was God testing his willpower. If so, Carlisle was failing miserably at resisting.

He didn't even realise his feet had taken him closer to her until she looked up at him, clearly surprised. Her skin was flushed pink from the exertion of running. "D-Dr. Cullen?" She exclaimed in surprise, her voice breathless from her run.

His throat was tight, and aching from her smell. Shit, he hadn't meant to approach her. He'd been so caught up in his head that he hadn't given any thought to his body. The pause he took as he thought of what to say felt like forever to him, but he knew that the human wouldn't perceive it the same way. He looked over her body, noticing that she was leaning on one leg, away from him. A bit like she might be ready to sprint away. "Good evening, Miss Carter. I hope I didn't startle you. Are you alright?" He couldn't resist asking, as he studied her face in the pale moonlight. She looked more strung out than she had earlier on in the day. There was a kind of wildness deep in her grey eyes that he hadn't noticed before, a deep-seated fear. Then it was gone, the sheet of one-way glass back in its place.

Her grey eyes seemed to search the perimeter before falling back to his own, calculating once again. "Yeah, fine, thanks. Couldn't sleep so I decided to go for a run. I assume you had a similar issue?"

He smiled gently at her. _You have no idea_. "I don't sleep much. Perhaps its all these years of being a doctor, but even on my nights off I struggle. I'm not much of a runner myself." It was a half-truth, anyway.

To his surprise, she smiled slightly, though it was wry and it didn't reach her eyes. "Hah, bit of a workaholic? Can't say I'm that surprised, it takes a lot of dedication to be a doctor. I imagine that it's hard to switch off." He was surprised that she maintained the conversation. She hadn't struck him as being particularly talkative this afternoon, but he was pleasantly surprised that she was opening up a little more.

Or was he? The longer he spoke to her, the riskier it became for her, even though she didn't understand that. "Yes, it certainly can be. That's why I enjoy late night walks."

There was a small silence as she started to regain her breath. Her heart was still beating a little faster than Carlisle would have liked. Perhaps she suffered from anxiety attacks? He considered the flash of wildness he had seen in her eyes, and wondered just what she might be running from.

She had turned her attention from him, looking up at the pale moon where it hung in the sky. "It's a beautiful night. Last time I was out here jogging, it was pouring down."

The way that the moonlight caught in her eyes was enchanting, Carlisle thought. "It certainly is a beautiful night. It's rare to see the sky so clear here."

He noticed that she was putting weight on her right foot gingerly, and she let out a tiny wince of pain, though her expression didn't change much. "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked tentatively, not sure how to handle her. On the one hand, he wanted to take care of her, and on the other he got the sense that she was uncomfortable with the idea of being helped.

She looked at the offending leg, testing her weight on it. She frowned, a hint of frustration slipping through the mask. "I think I may have overdone it a bit. I probably shouldn't be running on this foot, I twisted my ankle not long ago."

He was overwhelmed with the desire to help her, but he didn't want to frighten her. She was, after all, a young woman out alone in the middle of the night, and he was a stranger. She had no way of knowing that he wouldn't hurt her. "Are you far from home?"

"No, it's just down the road." She put more weight on the foot again, and visibly grimaced. Carlisle had to resist the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her home, as he didn't think she'd appreciate it. "Damn, I really did overdo it." She laughed lightly, but it was joyless and drained of feeling.

The Doctor in Carlisle wasn't comfortable letting her limp home. She looked like she was in considerable pain, even if she was masking it. If he wasn't a vampire, he doubted he would have caught the small signs she was giving off. "Would it be alright if I took a look at it?"

At that, she lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, right. You're a Doctor. Uh, sure... I doubt there's much you can do about it though." She limped over to a a wall and perched on the end, glancing at him surreptitiously.

He knelt in front of her, rolling her leggings up to take a closer look at her ankle. He was acutely aware of her watching his every move. The ankle was incredibly swollen, with angry purple bruising. It didn't look like a twisted ankle, that's for sure. He was astounded that she had even managed to run on it in the first place. "You said that you twisted your ankle the other day?" He probed, gently taking the ball of her foot and rotating the ankle slowly. He was certain that it was at the very least badly sprained, though the amount of bruising almost made it look like a fracture.

"Yeah, I was moving some of our stuff into the house and I tripped. Pretty clumsy of me." He resisted the urge to look into her eyes. He wasn't sure how, but he could sense she wasn't being entirely honest with him. Even with that toneless voice, she seemed to lack conviction in what she was saying.

Rather than focus on the lie, he decided to switch strategies. To discover more about her. He rotated the ankle to the right slightly, and she stiffened, her hands gripping the wall tightly and lightly grinding her teeth. That must have been how she originally twisted it. Judging by her minimal but definite reaction, he guessed it was a grade 2 inversion sprain. "My apologies, I'm trying to be as gentle as I can. Are you new to the neighbourhood then?"

"Yeah, we moved down about two months ago." There was the lie. He could see that the ankle injury would have healed more in that time. "I'm almost surprised that you haven't heard about us yet. Seems like everyone else in this town noticed us on the first day of our arrival."

His fingers ghosted over the ankle, trying to make sure that there was still blood-flow down to the foot. He was relieved to feel her blood thrumming through her veins under his fingertips. Despite the extensive damage, the artery itself appeared to be intact. "Well, my family are a little outside of the loop. We don't tend to hear much in the way of gossip."

He finally looked at her, surprised to see that she was fixing him with a small, guarded smile. "Ah, so you're are outsiders too? I have to say, that's kind of a relief. It's nice to know we aren't the only family who draws attention."

He had to chuckle at that. "No, you most certainly aren't alone in that department." He put her foot down on the pavement again. "Unfortunately, you seem to have sprained your ankle quite badly. You've partially torn one of the ligaments. I think it would be best if you go to the hospital tomorrow, you'd benefit from having the joint put in a supportive brace. For tonight, I would recommend icing it, making sure to cover the ice with a towel. You should take a few days to rest it, it will only get worse if you keep on your feet. Do you think you can stand?"

Wordlessly, she rose to her feet, but let out a small gasp of pain, swaying on her feet. Now more worried about her hurting herself than offending her, he put a steadying hand on her hip and shoulder to keep her upright. He locked eyes with her, trying to gauge how much pain she was in. Her grey eyes shone with involuntary unshed tears, showing that she was in considerably more pain than she was letting on. Her face had a look of forced relaxation, a look that she had clearly practised a great deal. What on earth could have possibly happened to her to make her behave this way? Why was she so afraid to show any kind of emotion? He hoped that the questions that circled in his mind didn't show on his face.

He quickly became uncomfortably aware of just how close they were to one another. Her eyes still had that calculating look, a quiet look that screamed of her distrust. Yet, underneath it, he could see something else. Curiosity.

They had been stood without talking for far too long, he realised. He shot a look down to her injured leg, breaking through the moment. "Something tells me you're going to struggle to walk on that. Would you mind if I escorted you home? I'm not comfortable leaving you here."

When he looked at her again, the calculating look had abated just a little, and instead she looked a little hopeless. "I... thank you, I would appreciate your help. I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this."

"I assure you, it's not a problem. I'll feel better knowing that you are home safely. Which direction are we going?"

She pointed in the direction that she had been facing when he found her. "It's about half a mile in that direction. 7 Angel Grove." He nodded, considering the best way to go about this. It would take him a while to get his car, and he didn't quite trust her to sit still and not attempt to walk home alone in that time. She struck him as being independent to a fault. It looked like he would have to hold her as she hopped on one foot. He didn't dare suggest that he carry her, it was far too intimate for two people who had just met.

He was glad that he was wearing a winter coat; hopefully she wouldn't be able to feel how cold he was through the thick fabric. "It would take a while for me to get my car. Put your arm around my shoulder and I will support you at the waist. It shouldn't take very long to get you back there."

She seemed to consider his words, but then nodded and put one of her arms around his shoulders hesitantly. He hooped his arm around her waist, resisting the urge to grab her too hard and sink his teeth into her. "Thank you Doctor Cullen. I apologise again for this. I promise not to make this a habit."

"You can call me Carlisle, if you like." He said as they started to limp in the direction of her home.

She smiled just a little at that, and her voice was softer. "You can call me Diana, then. Carlisle's an unusual name. It suits you."

He wasn't totally sure what to make of that comment, though it was clear she'd not intended to cause him any offence. He decided to just change the subject. "So, what bought you to Forks?"

Her voice returned to being virtually toneless. He resisted the urge to look at her, knowing that sheet of glass would have come back with it. "Peter doesn't like large crowds of people. It makes him feel uncomfortable. And he finds the rain soothing. Forks seemed the ideal choice."

"I meant to ask earlier today, how old is he?" She was moving with surprising ease next to him, almost like... like she was used to being propped up like this. He grit his teeth at the ominous idea. He wondered now what her life could possibly be like that she should have had to get _used_ to limping.

"He turned 13 last week." Was it his imagination, or did her voice regain some of its warmth? Perhaps putting her at ease was as simple as talking to her about her brother. He supposed it made sense, given how invested in him she seemed to have been.

"I am sorry for the misunderstanding at the hospital today. Nurse Brinkley should have checked his file and seen that he's autistic. It won't happen again. Did you get an opportunity to get him the painkillers I prescribed?"

"I did, thank you." To his surprise, she let a small, genuine chuckle, not twinged with bitterness like before. "Though, Peter refused to take them until I made him his favourite meal. Cheeky boy has me wrapped around his little finger."

He let out a little laugh at the idea. Somehow, he didn't doubt that she was right. "Really? I should bear that in mind next time he comes to the hospital. What did you make him? I might need the leverage in case he doesn't want me to do something."

She laughed again, just a little louder this time. It made his chest tingle. God, it was a rich sound. "Oh god, don't say that! I'm trying to get him out of the habit of doing things like that. He's completely food-motivated, sometimes it feels more like I'm training a puppy than raising a boy!" That made him laugh louder, a wide smile across his face as he envisioned the boy begging for treats. "What about you Carlisle? I think you mentioned earlier that you have children?"

He locked eyes with her, smiling. It was nice to see her relaxing, even just a little. He could feel that her body wasn't as tense as it had been. "I do, yes. Five of them."

Her mouth actually dropped open slightly, though she caught her reaction quickly and smoothed her expression over quickly. There was still some surprise in her voice when she spoke, though. "Goodness gracious, five children? How on earth do you cope? I'm completely swamped with just the one!"

"They're all considerably older than Peter. I adopted them all. Their names are Edward, Alice, Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie. Rosalie and Jasper are twins. They're all very well behaved, thankfully." She seemed to take all this information in, clearly listening quite carefully.

He could practically feel the curiosity radiating off of her. He wondered if knowing more about him might lead her to let her guard down a bit and trust him more. "Huh, well they're very lucky to have you. I still can't imagine raising that many all at once. And you're a doctor on top of all that!"

He smiled at the praise, feeling a little warmed by it. "Thankfully, my ex-wife is around to help me with them when they do get out of hand." He certainly couldn't take all the credit; Esme had been his rock for so long, holding their family together through the most challenging times.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by her voice, soft and... disappointed? "We're here."

"So we are." He said in response. They turned up the path towards the house, and she fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, releasing her hold on him. He instantly missed the warmth of her body.

She turned to him upon successfully unlocking the door, the calculating look in her eyes again. He wondered if she thought he was going to invite himself in, and held in a smile at the thought. He would never be so forward with a young lady. He took a step back to show his intentions, or lack thereof, and she visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Carlisle. I do hope you can get home safely?"

He smiled at her reassuringly. "I'll be perfectly fine, Diana. Make sure you ice that ankle before you go to bed, and keep it raised up. Perhaps take some non-inflammatory painkillers as well, they will help with the swelling. And no more jogging until it's healed, okay?"

At this advice, one corner of her lips twitched up, and there was a spark of genuine amusement in her eyes, like she was enjoying a private joke. "Thank you for the advice. I'll be sure to follow it. Perhaps if you're very unlucky you'll see me at the hospital tomorrow."

Involuntarily, he rose an eyebrow at that. Could her self-esteem really be that low? He couldn't help the urge to tackle those self-deprecating words. "I fail to see how that would make me unlucky, Diana. Good night."

The smile grew into a full one, and the amusement seemed to grow. For just a moment, she looked genuinely happy. The years fell off of her face, and some of the tiredness with it. She looked so much lighter without all of that pain in her eyes, and it made him hurt to know that this beautiful creature had perhaps once been a happy, unburdened person. Carlisle wished that this is what she looked like all the time. Light and free.

Then another voice entered the conversation. "Sissa?" It was Peter, calling from a room across the house. His voice trembled as he called out to her.

Like a switch had been flipped, her radiant smile was gone, replaced by a deep frown. The years piled back on her, and for just a moment her eyes looked wistful and sad, before they transformed once again into the toneless, calculating gaze. It hurt to watch her transform back into that person. "Excuse me, Doctor Cullen. I need to go check on Peter. Good night." Her smooth voice had lost it's warmth, and she hurriedly closed the door behind her.

For a moment, Carlisle stood there, pondering what had just happened. It was clear that Diana loved her brother very much, but clearly the responsibility of looking after him was taking it's toll on her. She was so young to have all that responsibility. Raising a child was difficult, and doing it alone was even more so. Not to mention the added requirements in raising an autistic child.

He could hear her wince in pain as she crossed the house. She was definitely using that damaged leg to get there, if her hurried pace was anything to go by. "Bubba, I'm here. It's alright. I'm right here." She called out quietly, and the pain finally leached into her voice. She had definitely been hurting more than she let on.

It broke Carlisle's heart to hear her like that.

"Sissa, I'm sorry I wet the bed. I had a bad dream and you weren't here and I was scared." He could hear Peter say, the words tumbling out of his mouth between tears.

Her tone was patient and calm, and the words came easily. He could hear the sheets being peeled away from the bed already. This was obviously a reasonably regular occurrence. "Shush, it's alright Bubba, I understand."

"I want Momma! I miss Momma." The boy sounded so angry and afraid, and Carlisle tried to imagine how Diana could possibly comfort him without touch, without hugging him or rubbing his back or holding him.

For a moment nothing was said, the only sound was Peter sobbing, then she spoke. "I'm sorry, Bubba. I can't bring them back. I wish I could." Her voice was so burdened with despair and longing and loss, any front that she had put up in front of Carlisle long gone.

It filled his heart with ice, and he knew then that he couldn't leave her. Not like this.


	3. Chapter 3: Life and Death

He didn't see her at the hospital the next day.

Not that he had had a lot of time to focus on her absence. At around 11am, paramedics arrived at Forks hospital with a 42 year old man and his 14 year old daughter. Their car had skidded on a sheet of ice and it had flipped. The daughter had a deep contusion on her arm, one that would require a lot of stitches, but was otherwise unharmed. The father, on the other hand, hadn't walked away from the accident. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt, and had shot out of the front of their car right into a tree. Amazingly, he had survived. His spine was broken in 3 places, and he had suffered major internal bleeding as well as a severe concussion.

When he spoke to the paramedics, it was clear what had happened. The father's blood alcohol levels were 6 times over the legal limit. Carlisle had been in the OR for 5 hours now, trying to stabilize the father. By the 6th hour, the father was finally stable and sent to the intensive care unit. A wash of relief washed through him, and he felt the joy of fulfilling his purpose. He wasn't sure that any of the resident surgeons would have been able to save the man, and he felt so pleased that he had been there to help.

He had been so focused on his duties that Diana had barely crossed his mind. But he couldn't help but wonder, as he scrubbed himself down after the surgery, if Diana really had taken his advice. In the few moments they had spent together, Diana had struck him as being a little... reckless. That ankle injury was evidence of that; no sensible person would have gone out running on a damaged joint like that. Most people probably wouldn't even walk on it. The way that she had run to Peter's side was yet more evidence that she wasn't looking after herself; it had to have been painful.

Why hadn't she sought treatment then? She'd been here in the hospital. He was surprised to realise that he hadn't seen her limping when he took Peter for an X-ray yesterday. He couldn't help but frown at this confusing realisation. Had she hurt the ankle later that same day? He doubted it from the bruising and swelling. If she had hurt it a while ago, as he suspected, then she should have shown signs of it in her posture. No amount of painkillers would have had her walking normally; part of the issue was structural, and her body would have naturally been inclined to keep weight off of the foot.

With a tingle of horror down his spine, he realised that she might actually have been successfully covering up her pain and forcing her body to move normally. She had, after all, only shown small signs of her pain last night, and that was right after running on it. Why would she need to do something like that? She could have had him look at her ankle then and there, so why didn't she?

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Nurse Brinkley. "Gosh, Dr Cullen. What did the soap do to offend you?"

Her flirtatious tone irritated him, despite his best wish not to dislike her for her advances. He knew that his kind looked very tempting to some mortals. He had left her to stitch up the daughter's injury. "My apologies, I was in my own world. How is the patient's daughter doing?"

"Oh she's alright. A little shaken up but otherwise alright. I left her with another nurse. It seems like it's just the two of them. I didn't recognise either of them, they don't seem to be from around here." He tried to tune out the gossip that was falling from her lips, walking down the corridor in the direction of his office even as she followed him. He wasn't particularly interested in who they were or why they were in Forks, as long as they were alright. He was just pleased that they hadn't managed to hurt anyone else when he lost control of the vehicle.

Finally, they had reached the office. "... well, I suppose that I ought to get going. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dr Cullen."

He smiled graciously at the woman batting her eyelashes at him, nodding. "Yes, I'll see you then Nurse Brinkley."

Then, to his surprise, she put a hand on his arm, looking up at him through her eyelashes. She wasn't normally this forward. "Do make sure you get some rest, Carlisle. You deserve it after doing such a wonderful job in surgery." She was practically purring at him. After all these years, he really ought to know how to handle women like this. He wondered if he ought to have a little chat with HR and ask them to remind everyone about workplace boundaries. He managed to weedle his way into his office without seeming too rude, and quickly changed before exiting the building.

His Mercedes greeted him with a happy bleep, and he felt relieved. As much as he loved his work, he was glad to be going home today. As he settled in the driver's seat, a conflict arose in him. Did he want to go home? Of course he did, his family were no doubt waiting for him. Yet... he was worried about Diana. If she hadn't sought out treatment yesterday, he had no reason to assume she would today. Frustration welled up in him. He shouldn't be this worried about her, they'd only met yesterday! And she was old enough to make her own choices. He resolved as he pulled out of the hospital car park that he would drive straight home. He wasn't going to check on her, he wasn't going to stalk her. Nope.

As he drove down the high street (if it could even be called that, it was so quiet) he reflected on his patients from this morning. He had seen so many victims of alcohol in his years as a doctor. It frustrated him to know that that the father hadn't worn his seatbelt, that he had decided to get behind the wheel. His daughter had very nearly become an orphan today. It didn't matter how many PSAs they put on the television, how much awareness was raised, there were always people willing to risk their lives and the lives of others without a thought.

The road was still covered in snow and ice, and he went a little slower than he might normally have done. He was glad that he had when the object of his worries appeared. A little bit of relief settled in him when he saw she was leaving the pharmacy, with Peter trailing behind her.

For a moment, he considered pulling over to say hello and check on her, but quickly thought better of it. She looked like she had too much on her hands as it was. In one hand, she was carrying a large bag filled with groceries, and in the other she clutched at her phone. The make-up she was wearing didn't completely cover up the bruise-like shadows under her eyes, though perhaps he could only see that because of his improved eyesight. God, she looked so tired, even with her blank expression. Her grey eyes looked dull and lifeless. She was speaking to someone down the phone, her tone hard and unhappy. "I'm sorry David, but I won't be able to come in until 8. Peter needs me."

The person on the other end of the line sighed, but she wasn't paying much attention, focused on putting her bags of shopping into a clapped-out Ford. She glanced over at Peter, who was stood on the pavement, looking nothing in particular. With a quiet sigh, she walked to the other side of her car and opened the passenger door, gesturing for Peter to get in. "Fine, I'll see you then. Don't be late." The man on the other end of the phone said, before abruptly hanging up. She put the phone in her pocket, closing the door of the car, and as she did, her long cream coat bellowed in the wind. There was a tear on the back of the right sleeve, one that should have been easy enough to repair.

He was surprised to see what she was wearing underneath, a black figure hugging floor length dress. It was classy and understated and totally inappropriate for the weather. His eyes trailed down to her feet, and his stomach turned as he saw she was wearing 6-inch fucking heels.

Heels, for fucks sake.

He resisted the urge to slam on the breaks, forcing himself to pull over safely. What the heck was she thinking? Rage boiled through his system, his teeth grinding. Not only was she not taking his advice, she was damaging the joint even more. Her head whipped around to his car as he slammed the door behind him, eyes meeting his own. Her eyes were calculating for just a moment, before a swirl of emotions crossed her face within a couple of seconds. First, she looked surprised, then it morphed into a little smile, before it seemed to dawn on her that her coat was open and her legs were on display. Her smile dropped, replaced with abject panic. Far too late, she wrapped her coat around herself, hiding her legs, but the damage had already been done. Her calculating eyes flickered between him and the driver side of her car, too far away for her to reach before he got there.

He struggled to keep the anger from his voice when he reached her, but couldn't hide his ire. "Heels, Diana? You can't be serious!"

She had the grace to look a little cowed, averting her eyes to the ground. For a moment, she was quiet, and she looked so young and vulnerable in that moment before she spoke, like a child getting ready to be scolded. "Dr Cullen... I... wasn't sure I would see you today." Her voice was filled with embarrassment and hesitation.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. God, this woman. Did she not have a preservation instinct or something? He tried to soften his voice a little. "Miss Carter, you should be at home resting. Why on earth are you out and wearing heels?"

Her eyes flickered to Peter, sat in the passenger seat, before they settled on him. A flush of blood had started to well in her pale cheeks. "I... They're for... work. My ankle is feeling a lot better today. I followed you advice and iced it... It's really fine, you don't need to worry about it."

He fought to keep his voice calm but despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep himself composed. "Diana, I'm a Doctor. I know how badly you've sprained it. You shouldn't be out, there's ice all over the pavement. What if you'd fallen? Even without falling, those shoes are going to exacerbate the damage. Why didn't you come to the hospital? And are you planning on driving?"

Her expression was a little more guarded now, just a little less trusting. Her gaze flickered over to Peter , who was sat in the car, completely nonchalantly. If he were human, he might have missed the tightening of the muscles around her eyes, the strain in her split-second glance. "I have to drop Peter off before work."

A wash of empathy flooded his system. The responsibility of caring for her brother was clearly a lot for her to handle. He quickly found himself regretting his impatience with her, and he changed his tact. His tone softened. "You should take the night off, Diana."

She didn't seem to make much effort to cover her tiredness in that moment. "I can't, I'll lose my job. I already lost the other one yesterday, I can't afford it. I have to go in."

A weighty silence hung in the air for a moment, and it dawned on him that they were standing very close to one another. He could feel her body warmth, almost feel the thrum of her heartbeat echoing through her chest. "Why didn't you say anything when you came to the hospital yesterday? I could have treated you."

For a tiny moment, pain registered in her eyes, before it disappeared. "I... couldn't." Came her lame answer.

It hit him then, why she didn't come to the hospital today, why she hadn't spoken up yesterday. The clapped out car, her torn coat, the lack of conditioner in her hair, the run down house on Angel Grove. He almost hit his head on her car in frustration. She couldn't afford the hospital bills. He sighed. "Oh, Diana. You should have said something. Come to the hospital. Forget about the bills, I'll handle that. You're hurt, and you need help."

With those words, her face hardened to stone, and he was faced with the same force that Brinkley had been yesterday. This time he noticed the way that the youth shrunk away from her face, and the way that her eyes looked like they were carved from stone. Her stance was confident and poised, like a predator ready to attack. She looked so incredibly dangerous in that moment.

And in a strange, sick way, he loved it. It was as arousing as it was painful to see. There was something about those dangerous grey eyes, something that left him gasping and wanting more. Yet, the wash of guilt that filled him for upsetting her dampened his arousal. She didn't speak for a moment, no doubt aware that her eyes were doing the talking for her. Then, she surprised him. Much like yesterday, he saw a flicker of something in those dangerous eyes.

Curiosity.

For moment, they regarded one another, and as he let his own curiosity show plainly on his face, her guard slipped just a little. Though none of the hardness faded from her flushed face, her voice was heavy with emotions. "I'm not a charity case, Dr Cullen." Her warm breath washed on his skin, bringing back the lust in full force. A few tense seconds passed, the shared intensity of the glance palpable.

His urge to be close to her was overwhelming. He needed to touch her, to hold her. Without even thinking about it, he laid his hand on her arm. At the contact, the curiosity in her face seemed to grow, along with confusion and suspicion. His voice was soft when he spoke. "I know you're not... but you're hurt, so please let me help you."

Her voice was laden with careful suspicion now, as opposed to her almost totally blank expression. "Why? Why do you care?"

"I'm a Doctor, Diana. I refuse to just watch you limping around in pain like this, not when I can help you. Please, let me help you."

He watched her face cycle through a thousand small expressions, before her eyes landed on Peter again and the tiredness seemed to flow into her eyes in full force, though her face was still carefully blank. "I... can't. I need to get Peter home. I have to go to work. I can't afford to lose this job." She said, seeming reluctant.

He could see that she meant it, but that didn't mean he was going to let it go. "Promise me that you'll come tomorrow. Please." Normally he didn't have to plead like this with people to come and get treated for such painful injuries.

Again, there was reluctance in her face. For a moment, he thought she was going to produce another excuse, but she surprised him. "Alright... I'll come tomorrow morning."

Relief washed through him, and he told himself that it was because he didn't like seeing anyone in pain. It had nothing to do with the draw he felt to her.

The intensity of the moment seemed to pass as quickly as it had come, and he found himself glancing at Peter. His thoughts drifted back to this morning's activities, to the man and his daughter who had almost died out on the road today. The thought of Diana driving around the icy bends with those heels on made him want to wince. "I would feel a lot better knowing that you got to work safely. Would you be opposed to me driving you both home then to work? The roads are icy today. It's not a good idea for you to drive."

"No that's okay, thank you. I'll be perfectly fine." She didn't pause, seeming to want to redirect the conversation. She looked torn and was unable to meet his eyes now. "Carlisle... I'm sorry, for snapping at you like that. I know you're just trying to help."

Carlisle smiled an easy smile. "That's quite alright Diana. I'm sorry if my behaviour made you uncomfortable."

She hovered awkwardly for a moment, before opening her car door. "Well then, I suppose I might see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, Doctor Cullen."

"Back to Doctor Cullen, are we Diana?" Carlisle couldn't help but tease softly, a smile pulling his lips.

It was only then that she met his gaze again, and she gave that small little smile. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "It seems so. I guess that makes me 'Miss Carter' to you, Doctor Cullen." And with a cheeky smile, she slid into her car.

Smiling, he strode back to his own vehicle, a pleasant and warm feeling spreading through his body.

Unfortunately by the time he got home, he was filled with worry again. He told himself that he would see her in the morning and that he ought not to worry about her until then. But as the moon broke from the clouds, all he could think of was when he'd see her pale grey eyes again.

* * *

Thank you to those who are reading this story, and especially to those who submitted reviews. Apologies for the delay in updating. I have had a few ideas about where I want this to go since starting and just really want to get it right. That combined with University work means that I likely won't update on any kind of regular schedule.


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